Fruition
by Niobe563
Summary: Olivia's perspective following the events during "A Woman Scorned" (Spans Season 2's "A Woman Scorned" and "Any Questions?"
1. Chapter 1

My hand brushes across the sheet beside me and stills. I'm expecting warmth but instead feel coolness, emptiness. I open my eyes slowly to adjust to the darkness. I'm alone.

I sit up and quickly peek beneath the sheet wrapped around me. I'm naked. But I'm still alone.

_This can't be a dream. Please tell me this wasn't a dream._

Suddenly, I hear the toilet flush and water running in the sink. Fitz's shadow emerges from the bathroom and he pads softly across the room. The bed sighs under his weight. I inhale and exhale in relief. It's warm again now, complete again now.

"Did I wake you?" he whispers.

I shake my head slowly. I'm sitting in the middle of the bed facing him, the sheet twisted around me, my shoulders bare.

"Well, something woke you. You were asleep when I got up." He rests his head on the pillow and inclines it towards me. "Weren't you?"

I nod. "Yes, I was asleep. I…" _How do I explain? _

"Livvie?" Fitz's voice is even softer now, and I can tell he's concerned.

When I start to speak, it's more to myself. I don't look at him. "You know I never thought this would happen. There were so many times when I hoped…and then I thought I was stupid for hoping…there were so many times I dreamt you were here with me, only to wake up and find the other side of the bed empty. I reached over just now and you weren't—"

"Here." He caresses my cheek with his fingertips. "Liv, I know. But that's over now. You have to believe me. I'm—not—going—anywhere. _This_ is where I belong. Where I've always belonged. With you. Nowhere else."

"How can you say that?" I wanted to ask this earlier, when he was sitting on the couch and determined to let the clock run out. But I couldn't. I was in such shock. Fitz was in my living room, telling me his whole world was about to be blown to pieces and he simply didn't give a damn; telling me he was choosing me. It was too much to comprehend. "How can you say that when you're the President and you're giving it all up? Everything you've worked so hard for you're just giving up."

"It's not what I'm giving up, Liv. It's what I'm gaining. Being president doesn't mean anything if I'm not with you. You think you're the only one who's hoped, who's had dreams? I can't tell you how many nights I've wished I was coming home to you; how many nights I've wished you were lying beside me and we were talking face to face, not on the damn phone; how many nights I've wished I could watch you fall asleep. I don't want to waste any more time wishing. I want what we have tonight—every night. I want us to be real, not some fantasy."

I hear the conviction in his voice and I know he's serious. He hasn't wavered since he came through the door. _This is really happening_.

"I didn't think choosing me was an option," I continue. "Especially after…especially after you found out about Defiance—"

Fitz presses his fingers to my lips to silence me. "That's over now. I know you did what you did because you wanted me to be president. When I got past the anger and the hurt, I realized that. You did what you did because you loved me. And I'm doing what I'm doing now because I love you."

"Are you sure?" I need him to say yes. Even though he's said it several different ways already, I need him to be absolutely sure. Despite the impracticality of it all, despite the foolishness of it all, I have loved Fitz and waited for him for the last four plus years of my life. I know that I chose this, to be on the outside looking in, to settle for a few hours together here or a few hours together there, to suffer through birthdays and holidays alone because I didn't want to be with anyone else. But I can't go through that again. I just can't. Now that tonight has happened and I'm so close to having what I've always wanted.

"Yes, I'm sure." He answers simply, powerfully. He pulls me toward him and enfolds me in his arms.

"Okay," I say. "Okay." I'm warm again now, complete again now.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up with Fitz this morning.

_I woke up with Fitz this morning._

Without the risk of someone finding us. Without the lingering guilt. Without the feeling that it was just a fleeting moment.

We've never spent the entire night together before. Even when we were at Camp David, it was too dangerous for him to stay. There was no telling when he would get a phone call or a knock at the door. And so we'd part, sometime in the middle of the night. We didn't have to part last night.

The realization of this dawns on me as I roll over and he's the first thing I see. He's looking back at me, smiling.

"Good morning," he says.

"Good morning," I reply. I smile in return, shyly for some reason. It's amazing what he does to me with a look, a few simple words.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I have in a very long time. You?"

"I'd have to say the same."

I look about the room for a moment, trying to decipher the time from the angle of the sun. "What time is it?"

"A little after nine," he answers nonchalantly.

I bolt up and throw the covers off. "Shit. After nine? Fitz, we have to get up." I quickly step over the shoes and clothes we recklessly shed hours before as I reach for my robe in the closet and throw it on. "Have you turned on the news? I know it's on every national and international network. What exactly did Mellie say last night?"

"She said I had an affair." Again, nonchalantly. He hasn't moved from the bed.

"Oh, my God. Cyrus must be going apeshit."

"I'm sure he is."

"Have you talked to him?'

"No. He's called though, looking for me. There were several colorful messages from him. Somehow he managed to use the f-word in every possible way – noun, pronoun, verb, adjective."

I'm not amused. This is serious and it's irritating me that Fitz isn't even out of bed yet. I feel his eyes on me as I rummage through my drawers looking for a bra and panties.

"Is this what I have to look forward to every morning?" he asks.

"What?" I snap.

"You, getting out of bed, no morning kiss."

"First of all, I don't do morning breath. Second of all, I am never, ever late for work. Third, I tend to skip the pleasantries when I have a national crisis on my hands."

"_You_ have a national crisis on your hands?"

"Yes! Fitz, Mellie dropped the bomb last night. We have to—"

Fitz's nonchalant tone is gone. "First of all, _we_ don't have to do anything. This is my problem and I will fix it. Second of all, you're going to be a bit later for work today because we are taking a shower together. Third, you're going to have to get used to morning breath because I intend to kiss you, before you get out of bed, every single morning we wake up together."

He is up and standing in front of me now. I don't resist when he grabs me and begins devouring my mouth. I can't. The taste of his lips against mine, his tongue slightly teasing, is exquisite. _Morning breath? What morning breath? _

Our mouths stay connected and somehow we make it into the bathroom. Someone turns on the water—I think that was me—and someone gets the soap—I think that was him. And for the second time in as many hours, I forget there is a crisis. I forget there's a world outside. It's just Fitz and I, and the beauty of his body dazzled with droplets of water and frothy suds.

He rinses off and then turns back to me, smiling that smile. "Hi," he says.

"Hi," I respond.

"I wished for this too, you know."

"Oh?"

Fitz nods. "Yeah. You, me, showering together."

"Has it lived up your expectations?"

"And then some. The only thing that would make it better would be…" He leans in to kiss me and I kiss him back and I know where this is going. And I so want it to go there. But we've spent the better part of the nine o'clock hour here and we can't afford to stay much longer.

"Fitz, we're never going to get out of here if we make love. Raincheck?" His groan tells me he disapproves but he pulls slowly away.

"Raincheck."

We get out reluctantly and agree to dry off separately to minimize temptation. I stay in bathroom while Fitz dries off in the bedroom. As I dry my hair, I look back at the shower, trying to commit every single action and every single word to memory. Even though I know I won't, I don't want to forget this.

I notice Fitz watching me as I turn off the hair dryer and start to curl my hair. He doesn't say anything and I resist the urge to ask him what he's doing. Maybe he needs this moment, like the moment I needed remembering us in the shower. He turns away after a while, and I see him looking about the room. Then he goes over to the closet and touches my clothes. The way he does so reminds me of when I found his Navy sweatshirt the night he was shot. It's reverent, like each one of my blouses and suits is sacred because I wear them.

"Do you know last night was the first time I've been in your bedroom?" Fitz says quietly. He's now at the night stand, touching the phone. "In your bed. Where you sleep. We've known each other for how long and I hadn't seen where you sleep before yesterday. How ridiculous is that?" It's as if he's reading my mind. It certainly wasn't lost on me that last night was the first time he's seen my bedroom; that it was only the second time he's been in my apartment.

"When you were lying in that hospital bed, all I could think about was the times I wasn't there for you," he continues. "Did you have bad days at work? Were you ever sick? How many times did you need me and I wasn't there?"

"Fitz…" I'm trying not to get caught up in this emotional onslaught but I'm failing miserably. I've lost count how many times I've wanted to share my life with him, not just the major things like an impossible client or a big payday but all the innocuous, inconsequential things like a new picture frame or yes, a stomach bug. He's hit me straight in the heart.

"You know that's over, right? I will be there for every good day, every bad day, every time you have a headache. I want to take care of you, Liv. I want to love you the way you deserve to be loved."

And right then I lose the battle. You would think spending the night with Fitz and making love I don't know how many times would have been enough. You would think showering with him this morning, having him wash every single inch of me and me wash every single inch of him, would have been enough. It wasn't. I close the space between us instantly and peel off his shirt, desperate to run my fingers over his skin again. It's funny; I kept thinking after the first few times we were together that I would get over it, that being with him would get old and I would stop wanting and needing him. I thought my desire was fueled by the fact that we weren't together. But now that we are, my desire is fueled by my love for him. My total and absolute love for him. _This could never get old_.

In a matter of moments we're in bed again; in a matter of moments I've forgotten again that there's a crisis. We melt into each other and I release the tension I've been holding in since we stepped into the shower. Fitz's hands caress me the same way, up my arms, around my breasts, down my thighs; his lips and tongue follow leaving hot, liquid sensations in their wake. He continues until he finds my center, and I'm writhing beneath him helpless to the beautiful torture. Only when the orgasm ripples through my body and I start to still does he release me. And then he's inside me and we rock gently together until a rhythm establishes and takes hold.

He whispers that he loves me, that I have no idea how much he loves me; how he was lost without me, how he can't live without me. I hold him tighter and bring him deeper, not able to echo the emotion in words but wanting him to know I feel the same. We stay entwined for some time, savoring every second, and when I know I'm close I try to prepare myself for the force of it. But there really is no preparation. We come together, an explosion of yearning, a harmony of moans and sighs.

"Fitz," I say over and over, gasping for air as my body quakes. I feel him ease out of me and he gathers me in his arms. We're silent for a few moments and my voice finally steadies. "I love you. I know I don't say it as much as I should—"

"Shh," he replies, pressing his lips to my temple. "I know, Liv. I know." He kisses me again and I realize I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay with him, just like this.

"Get up!"

I hear Cyrus's voice and my reverie is broken like a shattered vase. He's seething; I can almost feel the fury radiating from him. I cower in embarrassment and Fitz and I exchange defeated looks.

"I am so sorry," Fitz says. "Tom and Hal were under strict orders not to disturb me."

"And Cyrus found a way in. That doesn't surprise me." I'm already up and reaching for my robe. "Separate showers this time." It's a command, not a request. Fitz agrees with only a nod of his head.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm in fix mode. I don't care what Fitz says. He needs my help. I've been formulating a plan to minimize the damage and save what's left of Fitz's reputation.

"I'll put my ear to the ground," I say, putting on my shoes, "find out what I can about how the public is taking all this, how it's being messaged by the news anchors and pundits, and I'll get some intel on Mellie and what her next move is going to be. And then Cyrus and I—"

"No." Fitz's expression is stern as he knots his tie.

"Fitz—"

"No. You don't do anything. This is my problem. I made a decision and I'm going to deal with it." Fitz comes closer to me as he gets his jacket and I can't believe what I'm hearing. He doesn't want my help. "What?"

"What?" I ask.

"You have a look on your face."

"'Cause you are wrong."

"I am not wrong."

"I am very good at what I do. I am better at it than anybody else. That's not arrogance, that's fact. I am definitely better at it than your boys at the White House. You need me if you're going to survive this."

"Maybe. But you're not fixing or handling me anymore, Livvie. And if we are going to survive this, if you and I are going to make it together, you have to stand down."

"But—"

"Stand down. And wait for me to do this on my own." He puts his hands on either side of my face. "You are not in charge of everything." The kiss Fitz gives me is soft and sweet and I have no choice but to relent.

"Fine," I say.

I know what he needs is to do this on his own. And somehow, I have to let him. I don't want to do anything to jeopardize our future together. _Our future together_. The words fill me with pure, unadulterated joy. I don't know how I'm going to watch and wait by the sidelines, but I guess that's my problem to deal with.

The End


End file.
